


The Thing About Emotions

by lohac



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, also mentions of other characters but those are the main ones anyway, mentioned taakitz but its not the focus so im not tagging it as a relationship, or being honest about his feelings at least including to himself, taako is not good at feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 05:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12204681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lohac/pseuds/lohac
Summary: Feelings are complicated.Especially when you can't remember where they came from.





	The Thing About Emotions

It’s like this.

Emotions don’t exist in a vacuum. Your emotions are intrinsically linked to those you interact with. You’re happy because of others. You’re sad because of others. You laugh with and because of others. And your emotions flourish when you’re with others who accept them, who are willing to help both you and your emotions grow.

Without others, what’s the point?

 

It starts with just one. Your sister has always supported you, and you, her. Even with the dangers that come with a life on the road, you feel safe with her. Trust doesn’t come easy to you, but she’s the exception.

 

The world ends with a whimper one day, and your small family gains five more members. You don’t see them as family at first, just coworkers, but you find that being the last surviving members of your civilization tends to bring people closer. You’d never say it out loud, but you know that you trust them, and that they trust you. And you know that they know, too.

As it gets easier to care about the other six, it gets harder and harder to care about the inhabitants of the worlds you visit. You can’t _let_ yourself care when you know they’ll be dead in a year anyway. When it comes to balancing emotions, those for your family and friends and those for anyone else, ever, it sometimes feels like you’re taking one step forward and two steps back.

But you have the six of them, and - as long as at least one of you escapes - you’ll always have the six of them. It’s one of the few things you know, and you’re secure in that knowledge, that no matter what, you’re not alone.

 

And then there’s _no one._

 

You don’t remember where all these emotions came from. It doesn’t make sense, and when you question it your head hurts. You’ve been alone your whole life, you never should have _learned_ to feel in the first place. There was never anyone to feel anything about.

But you do feel, so you train yourself out of it, slowly but surely. There’s a little hitch, at one point, that comes in the form of a man who you call your friend. And for a while, you let yourself hope.

You should have expected it would go bad. But you didn’t, and it does, and you’re left alone again, reeling from guilt and a betrayal that, at the time, you think is deserved. That’s enough to convince you once and for all - nothing good can come from trust. Nothing good can come from caring about others. You look out for number one, and fuck anyone else.

 

Your resolve is tested when you meet the human and the dwarf for the first (second) time. It’s supposed to be just a simple job, but as luck - or fate - would have it, it turns into something so much _more_. You know it’ll be more when you start hearing static and you realize it’s the same static that plays in your head every time you try to think too hard about certain things. But you’re still not close, and you’re not going to get close. They’re just coworkers.

 

You start to worry after the train. You can feel the seeds of _something_ there, but you refuse to let it mean anything. You already know where that leads.

 

You don’t care about the halfling. You _don’t_.

So why does it hurt when she dies?

 

You instantly recognize the boy’s voice, and you feel an inexplicable wave of protectiveness followed by _fear,_ because you know what that means. You play it off with jokes and teasing, and promise yourself that you won’t let all your hard work be for nothing.

And yet, the fear remains.

 

You don’t realize it yet, but you’re fucked. All you know is the man is very attractive, and there’s a voice in your head - common sense, most likely - that tells you hey, maybe don’t flirt with _fucking death himself,_ but you ignore it. It’s not like this is anything serious, anyway.

 

Uncharacteristically, or so you tell yourself, you make mistake after mistake when training the boy. First and foremost is giving him magic lessons to begin with. You don’t _want_ to get closer to him, but the way he asked, with his eyes all pleading like that… well, you could hardly turn him down, could you?   
Then, of course, there’s… the cooking. That’s a whole mess on its own. You don’t mean to tell him about the town you killed, but somehow it slips out anyway. You tell yourself it’s because there’s no way he didn’t know already, being such a good detective and all. That has to be the only reason. And agreeing to mix magic and cooking? What were you _thinking_?

Of course, of _course,_ everything goes wrong, and you’re left alone, staring at the wall with a strange, twisting feeling in your gut. As excited as he was, you could have killed him. You could have killed someone else with your carelessness.

You can’t let that happen again. Because murder is illegal.

Yeah, that’s gotta be it.

 

You lie awake for weeks thinking about what those three letters could have meant.

 

You hate the loops. You hate the loops. You fucking _hate_ the loops. You hate dying, and - to a lesser degree, of course, so tiny it barely exists, _of course_ \- you hate seeing the others die, too, even though you know you’ll come back.

(It reminds you of something terrifying, but you don’t know what.)

 

The elf could be good at magic. She already is, really, she just needs practice. And a good teacher.

You’re _only_ helping her out because she liked your show, you tell yourself.

The excuse falls flat even on your own ears.

 

You definitely don’t spend hours wondering if you made a mistake, if you should have taken the cup after all. Not even once.

 

As you throw yourself into another plane, determined to save your friend, you wonder how things got to this point. It happened so slowly that you didn’t even realize, and yet, here you are. _Caring,_ even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t. These two are your family (and the word feels both right and wrong at the same time, like it’s not _enough_ somehow). And while you know it’ll all go to hell sooner or later, as you pull your best friend out of the rift and are pulled back in turn, you think that maybe, this time, it’s worth it.

 

Shit hits the fan much sooner than you expected. The very next day, in fact. Okay, so you can’t trust your boss, or any of your coworkers. It’s not like you trusted them to begin with. You’re _good_ at not trusting people, so it shouldn’t hurt when things like this happen. Things like this, that you should have expected all along. You can’t trust anyone. You _won’t_ trust anyone. Never again.

The boy… well. You’ll make an exception for him.

 

_You remember._

 

You remember having so much more, _being_ so much more - and you remember, clear as day, the moment it was all taken away from you. The moment that hardened you and turned you into what you are now.

Your hand shaking, you raise your - her - staff, and you begin counting backwards.

 

For the first time in over ten years, you don’t try to hide or suppress what you’re feeling: unbridled joy _,_ at seeing the face of your sister once again. She’s spectral, but she’s _here_ , and you can’t hold back a sob of relief as you rush over to hug her as best as you can. She’s back, and you haven’t won yet, but you’re suddenly feeling a lot more optimistic.

You’re suddenly feeling a lot more like _yourself_.

 

You’re still bad at being honest, though, so you effortlessly play it off when death tells you he loves you for more than your face.

 

You feel, more than see, the threads forming around the three of you. They’re white-hot, but they don’t burn. They’re meant to keep you safe, and in each one, you can feel the strength of your bonds with the others, first formed over a century ago, and reforged over the past year. You hadn’t thought they’d gotten quite so strong - you hadn’t _meant_ for them to get so strong - but they are. There’s no denying they are.

You haven’t felt love this strong in a decade and you wonder what, exactly, you were thinking, by pushing it away for so long.

 

You’ve won.

It’s hard - almost impossible - to believe, but you’ve _won._

The world is celebrating, and the seven of you are too, but there’s this _feeling_ in the air, one that you all know the others feel too. _Can it really be over? We’ve been running for over a hundred years. It’s too good to be true._   
But eventually, you let yourself relax. You let yourself _live._ You let yourself forgive for the time and the people taken from you. You let yourself cook without fear again.

Most importantly, you let yourself care. Trusting still doesn’t come easy, but you’re working on it. You have time for that, now. But caring… you can do that. You have your family back, after all, and it’s bigger than ever.

After over a century, you’ve finally found _home_.

**Author's Note:**

> the stuff in parentheses is supposed to be stuff that junior erased if that wasnt clear  
> thank you for reading! you can find me on tumblr at grandrelic, and feel free to leave a comment!


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